


Would You Live For Me?

by Ironkhaleesi



Series: Little Sister!Reader Incest - Marvel/Supernatural/Sherlock/Vikings/The Originals/Game of Thrones/Teen Wolf/King Arthur: Legend of the Sword [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Plus-Sized Reader, Smut, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 01:52:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11773014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironkhaleesi/pseuds/Ironkhaleesi
Summary: You and Sam share a dark secret from your teenage years, but after he went off to Stanford, everything changed between the two of you. Now it's years later and you're going on a date. When you come home crying, Sam is to the rescue and he suddenly remembers everything he'd forgotten whilst at college.





	Would You Live For Me?

Dean let out a low whistle when you walked into the library. You chuckled and ducked your head as you smoothed your hand down your tight dress. 

“Really show casing the legs tonight, huh?” Dean said as he leaned back against the table Sam was reading at. 

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you glanced down at the outfit. It was simple and elegant. Lace that went up your neck and down your arms. A hem that stopped too high for you to bend over. It left no room for doubt that you were bigger than the average girl, but you were comfortable with that. You were a capable hunter – that’s what mattered, not how big or small you were. 

You grinned and looked back up at Dean. “Well, he is a leg guy.” Dean groaned. “What?”

“Why can’t you just date girls?”

You rolled your eyes. “Dean …”

“I’m serious. Guys are douchebags. This guy isn’t good enough for you.”

Your heels clicked against the floor. You patted his chest and looked up at him – even in heels you only came up to his shoulder. “You’re my big brother, Dean. You’re meant to say that. Besides, it’s not like I wanna marry the guy.” You gave him a coy smile and stepped back. “I just want a little fun.”

“You’re lucky I’m not Dad,” Dean said. “If he were here he’d chain you up in the dungeon.”

You lifted your shoulder. “’S’too bad. I like being tied up.”

He groaned. “And now I’m gonna go throw up.” He planted a kiss on your head. “Be safe. If that guy lays a hand on you without permission –”

“I’ll kick his ass myself.”

“That’s my girl.”

You turned to Sam with a smile once Dean left. “You’ve been quiet,” you said. He gave you a tight-lipped smile. “In fact, you haven’t said a word to me since I told you I was going on a date.”

He leaned back in his chair as you rested your hip against the table next to him. “Yeah. Sorry. Guess I, uh …”

You tilted your head. “You gonna go all ‘over-bearing big brother’ on me too?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. Dean does that just fine on his own. He’s right, though. This guy isn’t good enough for you.”

 

You rolled your eyes. “Not you too. You haven’t even met him.”

“I don’t care. No one’s good enough for you.”

“You were.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. 

He froze, and for a moment you thought that maybe he didn’t know what you were talking about. It was years ago, after all. Almost two decades. 

He rested a hand on your waist – dragged it down over your hip. “You look beautiful,” he said.

“Are you really going to ignore what I just said?”

Sam blew out a breath and lifted his eyes to your face. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You shrugged and traced your fingers along the back of his hand – the one that was still on your hip. “You don’t have to say anything. I guess I just … we were close, Sammy.”

“We were too close.”

“We were just kids. Experimenting.”

“I was 19, Y/N. I was long past experimenting.”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist and smoothed up his forearm. “I miss you, Sammy. I miss us.”

He pulled his arm away from you and swallowed. “I’m your brother,” he whispered. 

You moved forward and placed a hand on his shoulder to get that contact back. “I know. I’m not saying … I just feel like I can’t talk to you anymore. Not since Stanford. Not like I used to.”

He looked up at you. “It’s been 14 years, Y/N. Why are you bringing this up now?”

Your heart dropped at his closed off expression. You stepped back, let your hand slide from his shoulder. “I don’t know. Sorry. I won’t bring it up again.”

You turned to leave but he trapped your arm in his hand. “Wait.” 

You turned back and watched him in silence for a moment. He seemed to struggle with something, then he stood, and he towered over you despite your heels. 

He cupped your face in his large hands and bent over you. “You can always talk to me. About anything.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “I miss you too,” he murmured against your skin.

****

It wasn’t until you stormed in later that night, heels swinging from your finger tips, when Sam and Dean wished they’d tried harder to keep you home. 

“You were right,” you snapped as you passed them on your way to the bedroom hall, “guys are douchebags.”

Dean stood from his chair when you disappeared around the corner. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Sam sighed. “Dean –”

“What?” Sam gave him a look. “Oh, come on, Sammy,” Dean said as he braced his hands against the table. “You really gonna let him get away with this? That asshole made our baby sister cry.”

“She’s not crying.”

“Not yet. Not in front of us.”

Sam shook his head. “Y/N never cries. About anything. You really think some ass with an ego is gonna change that?” Dean’s jaw ticked. “Look, I’m not saying we ignore this. I’m just saying before we go on a witch hunt, we should figure out what happened.”

Dean growled in frustration and slumped back down in his seat. 

When he was sure Dean wasn’t going to do anything stupid, Sam went to your room. 

He knocked and when you didn’t answer, he entered. You were standing in front of your mirror trying to pull down the zipper of your dress and failing. 

When you growled in frustration and went to rip it open, Sam rushed up behind you and pushed your hands away. 

“Don’t ruin it. This is a nice dress,” he said as he pulled down the zipper himself. He dragged the tip of his thumb down your spine as it opened. 

You scoffed and he lifted his head to look at your reflection. 

“Not nice enough,” you muttered with down cast eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered. He pushed one of the shoulders of your dress down and kissed your skin. “It’s beautiful on you. I told you that guy wasn’t good enough.”

“Or I’m not good enough for him.” 

Sam’s brow furrowed. You weren’t angry anymore – you were sad. No guy ever made you this upset. At least not the ones you weren’t serious about. Spilt milk hurt you more than any bar fly could. 

Which meant this was about more than your date. Whatever he’d said or done – it had really hit home. 

It took more effort than Sam cared to admit not to squeeze his hands around your arms in anger. 

“What the hell did he say to you?” he said, his voice the epitome of calm before the storm.

You shook your head and pulled away from Sam, hiding your face.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said. 

Your voice shook. Sam pressed harder.

“Y/N. You can tell me. Please, whatever it is –”

“Just stop,” you yelled as you turned to face him.

His heart dropped at the sight of the tears rolling down your cheeks. 

You sniffed and ran your fingers through your hair. Sam’s feet were frozen in place. He hadn’t seen you cry since he left for Stanford. You didn’t even shed a tear for John when he died. You were made of tougher stuff than that. 

“God,” you whispered. “I am so tired of being treated like some sort of fetish or – or charity case. Being fat doesn’t make me any less of a human than the next person.”

Nausea twisted in Sam’s stomach. Of all the things the guy could have said, attacking your weight was something that bothered him the most. High school had given you so many issues with your self-image, he’d spent countless hours – years – proving that you were beautiful no matter what. Now some asshat had undermined everything he’d ever told you. 

“Y/N ...”

“You wanna know what he said?” you said with another sniff and a smile that was nowhere near happy. “’You’re a little big, baby, but I can work around that for a night’. That’s what he said. Is that what you thought, Sam?”

Sam held up his hands and shook his head. “No –”

“That if you just closed your eyes you could ignore that I was fat? That you could just ‘work around it’?”

“Y/N, please. I never –”

“Get out.” Sam froze, unsure if he’d heard you right. “I can’t stand looking at another man right now. Get out.” 

He pressed his lips together and didn’t move. He was your big brother – he couldn’t just leave you like this.

You didn’t give him a choice. You pushed and shoved and shouted until he was out in the hall with the door slammed in his face. 

Dean looked up expectantly when Sam walked back into the library moments later. 

“I heard shouting,” he said – he was ignored. “Hey. Sammy. You look like you’re about to kill someone.” 

Sam grabbed his gun from the table and chambered a bullet. “Because I am.”

****

Beating someone into a pulp had never felt so satisfying to Sam as when he did it to the man that made his baby sister cry. He was sure he’d cracked a few knuckles – they were swollen and angry. In the end, even Dean stepped in to drag Sam off the guy. 

He’d tried to clean off as much blood as he could, but there was no hiding the blood spatters on his shirt when he entered your room during the wee hours of the morning. He should have changed clothes – taken more care to treat his split knuckles – but he was too pumped up on adrenaline, too anxious to see you and show you that he loved every inch of you. 

No matter what any jackass said about your body, Sam adored it – he adored you. 

You were asleep. Your eyes puffy – nose red. It tore Sam’s heart to pieces. He perched on the edge of your bed and looked down at you. He wondered how anyone could look at you and see anything but beauty. He wondered how anyone could talk to you and not fall in love. 

He was your brother, and even he’d fallen for you. 

You shifted in your sleep, and like a magnet, his hand was drawn to your naked thigh. You drew in a deep breath and rolled to your stomach. His hand pushed up and spread out over your upper thigh, his fingers tucking beneath the crease of your ass. He wiggled them, smiling as your ass jiggled in response. 

He loved that about you. Every time you walked your ass would jiggle. Every chance he got to walk behind you, he took it – his eyes glued to your behind. 

Whenever he fucked or masturbated, he’d close his eyes and remember the way your ass bounced when he used to fuck you. 

Everything about your body that society seemed to hate – he loved. 

“I thought I told you to get out.”

Sam’s eyes lifted to your face. Your eyes were still closed. 

He smiled and pushed his hand under your shirt to rest on your back. “You did.”

You drew in a deep breath, opened your eyes and rolled over. Your shirt lifted. Sam bent over and pressed a kiss to your round stomach. The stomach he’d fallen asleep on countless times in the past. 

“Then why are you here?” you said.

“Because I love you,” he said. Like it was the simplest thing in the world – and it was. 

You sat up and rested your head against his shoulder. He pressed his lips to the top of your head and the two of you sat like that for a moment. Then you saw his hand. 

“Sammy …”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he said as you inspected his knuckles.

“What did you do, Sam?”

He pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Gave that guy what he deserved.”

You gave him a sad look. “You can’t do that. You can’t just hurt people because they hurt me.”

“I can and I will. What he said – what he made you feel – none of it’s true. You’re beautiful, Y/N. You always have been.” He cupped your face in his hand. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if I have to.”

You kissed his palm and turned your eyes away from his. “You said it yourself – you’re my brother.”

“That never mattered to us before,” Sam said. “Why should it now?” You looked at him. “I’m sorry for pushing you away. I’m sorry you don’t feel like you can come to me – that we’re not close. I’m sorry that I don’t tell you every day how much I love you.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Sammy. You just have to show me.”

“Like this?” He bent forward before you could utter a word, and kissed you.

His tongue slid against yours. He breathed in your scent. Nipped your lip as he pulled back. 

“Exactly like that,” you whispered.

You launched forward and he caught you around the waist, dragging you into his lap and situating your thighs on either side of his hips. He was in a rush, pressing kisses to every inch of skin he could get his hands on. He tore at your clothes until they hung from your body. He squeezed your ass and sucked on your breasts. 

He barely noticed you pulling at the buckle of his jeans until you pulled him out and sank down on him. He let out a long groan and took a moment to relish in the feeling of having you wrapped around him after years of starving himself of your touch. 

His kisses turned to bites. His squeezing turned to scratching. 

You bounced on his lap and he drank down every cry and moan that fell from your mouth. He didn’t care that Dean might hear – he just wanted to feel your pleasure fall into his mouth and roll down his throat. 

He lived for it.

He lived for you.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got more fics at iavengesuperwholock.tumblr.com


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